


A Treat For Her Alone

by AkisMusicBox



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: A Conversation in the Library, ClaudelethVDay, Dramatic Escape, F/M, Mild Blood, Post-Time Skip, that gets interrupted
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:20:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22652401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AkisMusicBox/pseuds/AkisMusicBox
Summary: He shook his head, more adamantly this time. "You were coming back. I just had to wait. There was plenty to do, anyway." His voice was thick, and it filled her with both hope and pain.She put a hand on his arm. "Claude... " He looked at her, and the sparkle in his eyes had changed. She felt her own eyes prickle.The door burst open. "Study hall's over!" Judith said, sword in hand, a spatter of blood over her angular features. She slammed the door shut and locked it.My contribution to the #ClaudelethVDay event byJullika08, using the prompt "Be Mine"!
Relationships: Lorenz Hellman Gloucester/Hilda Valentine Goneril, My Unit | Byleth/Claude von Riegan
Comments: 2
Kudos: 83





	A Treat For Her Alone

"Despite the hardships House Daphnel has run into, their library collection remains impressive," Claude said as he led Byleth up the winding staircase. "Small, but well-curated." He waved a gloved hand. It was hard to believe how he'd changed in five years - in a blink of an eye, to her, but the time passing was obvious on him. His shoulders seemed broader, his gate more assured than she ever thought possible. His wild hair had tamed somewhat, but the mischief was still in his eyes. Jeralt had always said that throwing facial hair on a baby's face just made them a younger baby, but this was an instance she couldn't agree. His jawline was that of the leader of the Leicester Alliance. He was not only a man, but he had _been_ a man for years, and it tugged at Byleth that she had missed it. _Not all of it, though. He's not wed yet._

It was a fear she didn't know she should have held until Hilda mentioned it. "He's gotten some criticism for not assuring some of the lords with some strategic marriages. It's surprising how quickly people start cooperating when they think a betrothal could come out of it. Lord Gloucester, in particular, seems to be angling to marry me to Lorenz -- he is trying his best to keep under the Emperor's radar, but some of his vassal lords think he should cut ties if the Empire gives him a more enticing offer. A betrothal within the Alliance would end that type of talk. Claude could probably order it, too, but he says that lords who want to be pacified like that are worth keeping an eye on, not indulged. That tends to keep talk of marrying him off at bay, as well."

"Do you want to marry Lorenz?" Byleth asked softly.

Hilda turned as pink as her hair. "I want this war to be over."

Claude had not told Byleth about these kinds of discussions, as their conversation had stuck to more warlike matters. They had had little time to discuss anything else -- their private reunion cut short by the arrival of her other Deer. And after that, coordination with the Church and restoration of the monastery. And after that, strategy, strategy, and more strategy.

However, their latest mission allowed them a brief respite in the modest keep of House Daphnel, and while most of her former students spent their time carousing in the dining hall, Claude had asked her to join him for a walk. _The leader of the Leicester Alliance and a mercenary walk into a library..._ It felt like the beginning of a joke that her father would have told, at least. She had never been good at telling jokes, but she knew the tone of them for certain. _I wonder what lords would laugh at a joke like that._ But she shouldn't, couldn't pay much mind to hypothetical people, because they weren't being shown a library chocked full of books that made Claude's eyes sparkle with delight. That was a treat for her alone.

The room was round, lit mostly by moonlight pouring through the expansive window. His golden cape only seemed brighter in the pale light. "Any books I need to fawn over in particular?" she asked.

He chuckled and turned to her. "Plenty. How long do I have to show you?" His smile warmed her as if she had before been chilled by its absence for five years.

"I think that's up to what time 'Mr. Leader Man' has available," she said softly.

His expression softened. "That's also up to the Archbishop of the Church of Seiros as well. The head of an organization which... I have historically not been shy about my criticisms of. And how you'll have to account the use of that time to Seteth."

"A good leader is receptive to feedback," she said simply and went to his side. "He'll understand."

Claude ran his hand along the book spines in front of him and picked one with a faded, cream cover. "This one is particularly interesting. A history of Fodlan's Throat, but not quite as Fodlan-biased. Lorenz might find it interesting."

"Lorenz?" she asked, attempting to be only passingly interested. But that was never something she was good at pretending.

"It's... a promise to him. To end the war." His grip tightened on the book. "We can do that now that you're back."

His tone made her heart ache. "I'm sorry. I didn't choose to leave."

"I know," he said in a low voice, taking the book and setting in on the dusty table in the middle of the room. "And I knew you'd be back. I wanted to end it before then, so I could give you a peaceful place to return." He went back to the bookshelf and shook his head. His voice cracked. "But I couldn't do it alone. I could barely manage to keep the Alliance together."

"You didn't have to be alone," she said, a weight on her chest.

He shook his head, more adamantly this time. "You were coming back. I just had to wait. There was plenty to do, anyway." His voice was thick, and it filled her with both hope and pain.

She put a hand on his arm. "Claude... " He looked at her, and the sparkle in his eyes had changed. She felt her own eyes prickle.

The door burst open. "Study hall's over!" Judith said, sword in hand, a spatter of blood over her angular features. She slammed the door shut and locked it. "Your favorite assassins have infiltrated, boy. My soldiers and your Deer are searching the keep, and your Church people are scouring the woods for anyone else." Judith eyed Byleth, and Byleth withdrew her hand. "But there were two on my tail here." She shoved the table and stuck her blade between two floorboards. It pried up a trap door. "We have to escape."

"They'll figure it out if he's just gone," Byleth said. She went to the window. It was a ten-foot drop to the lower building, but she could see every tile of the peaked roof in the moonlight. _That will do._

Claude glared at her. "No. My friend, you don't know how cunning those assassins are. I've been running from them my whole life, and you don't even have a sword."

She took her coat off and pulled out a set of daggers from the inner pockets. Claude's eyes went wide; Judith snorted. "Not bad, but still not enough," Judith said.

"I don't intend on making a stand, I intend on making a scene." Byleth ran a blade up her coat's sleeve and cut it wide open. She used it to bind her mint-green hair as much as possible. "I can distract the pursuers while you escape and regroup. Enough time to secure weapons, at least." She looked Claude up and down. "Your tunic and cape should do the trick."

He exhaled. "Judith, can you give us a moment? Just sweep the tunnel, make it's secure."

She studied him for a moment. "Make it quick." She descended the ladder.

His eyes pleaded, but Byleth spoke first. "This is the safest option. If I can draw them out, it will keep them away from the others. You and Ignatz could pick them off with bows - "

Claude growled as he ripped off his gloves. He pried open the clasp of his shoulder plate. "I know, I know! And Leonie and Raphael kept pouring everyone ale, so we need to be cautious." He shed his cape and started worrying at the sash. "But it doesn't mean I have to like it." Byleth took the garments and set them aside as he tugged his tunic off. The bitterness that the action was tinged with almost made her laugh. _It's part of the joke. It feels like part of a joke._

He slid the tunic over her head. It didn't dwarf her, but it certainly wasn't fitted to her proportions. The white shirt he was left in made it clear just how much he had grown. "You - have to help me with the rest as well," she said, fighting past the lump in her throat. "It baffles me that your clothing could have gotten more complicated, but somehow you managed it."

He chuckled incredulously and wrapped the sash around her waist. Firm hands tugged at her. "My uncle even needed help getting dressed in the latter part of his life, but I've got it down to a science." The flag of Leicester went on her shoulder next and was tucked into the sash. She could feel his breath on her cheek. "I just got you back," he whispered, eyes darting to hers for a moment. He grabbed the shoulder plate and turned his attention to her shoulder.

"This is not the same," Byleth said, steeling her voice. "I merely have to teach a lesson to some assassins." She took her daggers and tucked them into the folds of the sash.

The plate clicked into place and Claude let the golden cape fall down her back. "I have so much I want to talk to you about."

"I do to," Byleth said. She grabbed her coat and fished into the inner breast pocket. She pulled out a small, velvet pouch and pressed it into his hands. The contents clinked together. "But I'll summarize. Be safe. Be mine."

Claude opened the pouch. His eyes widened in delight. His smile was blinding. He clutched the pouch with one hand and took her cheek with the other, pulling her in for a fervent kiss. His lips were soft against her chapped ones, but it didn't seem to dampen his enthusiasm. His calloused fingers ran along her jaw as her stomach fluttered. _Fluttered. A hardened mercenary._ All of her air was his.

"Boy!" Judith's voice boomed from below. "Now!"

He pulled away, a hair's width way but still enough to feel his absence. "The glory of progress," he said breathlessly. Lightheaded, she chuckled. He grabbed her coat and went to the trap door. With a wink, he said, "Gold suits you," and descended.

She shut the trap door behind him and returned the table to its original placement. It felt wrong to abandon the cream-colored book so she shoved it down the wide neck of the tunic, realizing he never had attempted to tie his cravat onto her. She smirked and crossed to the door. She unlocked it and waited until she could faintly hear a commotion from the stairs beyond.

She went to the window and planted her foot through it, the glass shattering in an impressive spray. She widened the hole large enough for her to fit through it. Then, she took a shard of glass and sliced the back of her arm, just deep enough for some blood to well on it. She smeared the blood on the windowsill. _That should do it._

She could hear the footsteps outside of the door when she climbed out of the window, hanging off of the edge as low as possible before letting herself drop. She stumbled on impact, but righted herself and straightened her cape. Only when she heard the necessary exclamation of, "Fuck!" and "After him!" did she begin her run along the rooftop, cape billowing wide behind her. _Allow me to demonstrate,_ she thought to herself. _What happens when you disturb a meeting of the leader of the Leicester Alliance and the Archbishop of the Church of Seiros._


End file.
